Number 10
by The Mardog
Summary: The new P.M. is about to find out just how far the official secrets act spreads.


Number 10

The Prime minister closed the red box and looked at the clock. Almost 9 pm, Time for the meeting the Chancellor of the Exchequer had insisted could not be moved or delayed, it always happened within the first week of a P.M. Being elected. It was tradition.

The P.M. wondered what could be so important when in walked his secretary "There here Prime minister, you should come with me."

"Uh, yes, of course, will I need anything?"

"No sir," One of the staff of Number 10, Johnson he thought, walked in with a tray of Glasses and some cognac as they walked down the hall.

"Strange" The P.M. thought "I was not expecting anyone for drinks tonight"

The Chancellor stopped "Through here Prime Minister"

He walked into a large room; there were mumblings of "Evening Sir" and "Prime minister" from the various people around the room.

When his eyes became accustomed to the light he realized who was there,

"The Head of MI6 and MI5 in the same room, Head of the Met Police, Brigadier Wainthrite, this is a strange meeting" He was about to go on when a woman's voice came from the Shadow

"We know who we are Mr. Blair, I suggest we get on with this, Mr. Travers"

"Yes, of course," A man In a tweed jacket stepped forward from the boxes he had been standing next too "Prime minister, My name is Quentin Travers, I am the head of the Watchers council, have you heard of us?"

"Well yes, but only in rumours and drinking stories"

"Quite, well, there is a good chance several of them were true... Lydia, open a box please"

A pretty girl with glasses nervously opened a box, in it was a man in his early 20's in torn jeans and a leather jacket, he was chained and gagged

The PM blanched "What's going on here"

Travers stepped forward "a minute if you would Prime Minister" he took the Gag off.

"Oi, let me out of here, They're crazy... Hey, Aren't you the P.M.? I was gonna vote for you"

Travers pulled a wooden stake from his breast pocket and drove it into the mans heart,

Instead of crying in pain and slumping forward, the Mans face changed, and then

"Dissolved?"

"We prefer the term Dusted, sir" Lydia piped up.

"What in Gods name happened here?' The P.M noticed none of the others had moved, he realized they had expected that to happen.

"That Sir, was a vampire" Travers handed the stake to his assistant,

"Just a minute now, your telling me that vampires are real, and you just... Dusted one?"

"That is exactly what has happened, Vampires are real, they are amongst us and the watchers council fights them"

The others in the room nodded in agreement, Lydia opened the 2nd box, this time it was a girl, or would have looked like one if not for the demonic face and teeth, it was straining at the chains

"I suggest you come and take a close look Prime Minister" The Chancellor suggested, The P.M. slowly walked up.

"My God"

"You can touch it if you like. They're at room temperature, not warm blooded once there dead sir" Lydia suggested.

"Er, No thank you."

Brigadier Wainthrite handed a bottle marked Holy water to the PM "Would you like to do the honours sir?"

"Er, I 'd rather not"

"Very well" The officer then proceeded to pour the water over the vampire who dusted very slowly.

"Er, What now? Why have you shown me this?"

"Well Mr. Blair" The women stepped forward from the shadows, "The New Prime minister is always told within a week of the election, generally most of the councils requests for assistance or information go through the civil service or the House of lords, but we feel it is rather important that you know exactly what is going on. Just incase you hear some funny rumours around the chambers"

The PM gulped "Yes, Your highness, how long has this been going on for?"

"This tradition? Roughly since the Industrial revolution, when people stopped believing in things that went bump in the night" Travers signaled to his assistants, "Lydia, Gwendolyn, remove the boxes please." The older assistant stepped forward and mumbled under her breath as the boxes floated of the ground and out the room

"Not entirely necessary but it is impressive, what?" Wainthrite added.

"Er, yes, I feel rather ill at the moment" The P.M was turning pale.

Princess Anne stepped forward, then perhaps we had better return to your office for a stiff Drink. Johnson?"

The old man stepped forward again holding a vacuum cleaner "Yes your highness, the cognac is in place"

"Excellent, Now Mr. Blair, Quentin and I have much to discuss with you, the watchers were granted land by Henry VIII ..." The body of the group drifted down the corridor

Wainthrite strolled over to Johnson who had plugged in the Hoover, "I thought that went rather well old boy, what do you think?"

Johnson looked up from the dust piles on his clean carpet "Not as good as Mrs. Thatcher, she beheaded the second one with a letter opener when she had the chance."

"True enough, but at least he didn't faint like the last chap, oh well, drinks are waiting, as you were Johnson"

"Thank you Brigadier"

And he started to clean up the mess, hating vampires, and all other messy creatures of the night.


End file.
